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Ireland

I’m a little late posting this, my apologies. I think, just like my “Happy Thanksgiving, Addams Family Style” post, I will simply post this every year for St. Patrick’s Day. At least until I find something that moves me more than this does, which will be a difficult feat indeed.

In honor of St. Patrick’s Day and Ireland, have a listen to some truly amazing voices. I could listen to them all day. And just might.

As most of you know, I live in a very small, rural town, and it’s not as though people expect to go through our historic streets with the one traffic light and come across an Irish pub, let alone an authentic one. Believe it or not, though, we do have one…well, technically speaking anyway. In reality, what we have is a posh bar, with a fancy sign. You’d think the owners would at least try to make it a legitimate Irish pub, but there, you would be wrong. Oh sure, the menu is covered in clovers and Celtic knots and has elaborate dishes with the words ‘Irish’ and ‘Dublin’ liberally strewn about, but that doesn’t make it a decent Irish pub. Although I have yet to make my heart’s desire journey to Ireland, one thing I do know is pub food. As a matter of fact, there is a quintessential Irish pub about an hour away, so I do have that oasis…but still, it’s quite the hike for fish and chips, no matter how good it may be. And trust me, it’s amazing.

So when this new joint first opened, I had high hopes of ditching the long commute in my quest for bangers and mash, and the aforementioned fish and chips. But alas, those hopes were dashed like a bottle of Guinness caught in a wave against the Cliffs of Moher. My main gripe with this place is its hours and upscale, hipster vibe. It gives every impression of being an upper crust establishment, with upper crust prices for extravagant dishes you’d never see in Ireland, let alone any self-respecting pub. Calling a brie-cheeseburger covered in crab imperial (a Maryland specialty by the way) a Dublin Burger does not a Dublin Burger make. I won’t even get into the portions that look like they’re meant for an elf, and a smallish elf at that. As for the hours – now I know my town rolls up its streets at dusk, but still…no self-respecting Irish pub closes before 10 PM on any given day. I mean hell, that’s when all the best drinking starts. I can’t be the only one who thinks that, right? Right!?

But their ploy is working, this bar was actually voted ‘Best Irish Pub’ in the area. Although given what else is in the area with regards to food and entertainment, maybe that’s not so hard to believe after all.

Okay, so I’m a little late for Saint Patrick’s Day as the day is almost over. And I have no valid reason for being behind because I’m re-posting an entry I wrote from February 2014. So I didn’t even need to write something from scratch. My only excuse is I’ve been under the weather and not really on my game. Still, I hope you enjoy it and Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!

** originally posted 2/7/14: Out of Time and Place **

Have you ever had a feeling of déjà vu and known it was something you can’t possibly have experienced in your own lifetime? I get this feeling often, a heartfelt pining for a time period I’ve never lived through and a place that I’ve never even visited. Many of these feelings are tied directly to Ireland in the early 20th century and onward. I’ve never been to Ireland and although I’m not about to disclose my age, suffice it to say that while I may not be a spring chicken anymore I certainly wasn’t alive that long ago. So where does this pull come from? I know that I have Irish ancestry so maybe it’s some sort of engrained memory in my genes; some attachment that’s been passed down from generation to generation, gently calling me back to the homeland. Maybe the memories of a past life are bubbling subtly to the surface of my consciousness.

Since I can’t time travel or teleport, the best I can do to ease this unnerving feeling of living out-of-place and out-of-time is to read as much as possible about this beautiful and bewitching Ireland. History books, news articles, and authors specializing in the place and era. I read and read and read some more, stoking this connection and hoping to quell this unexplained feeling of homesickness….a strange yet compelling homesickness for a place I’ve never even been. The reading does help, but it doesn’t answer the burning question lying underneath the feelings. Are the ghosts of my past whispering to me or am I just a nutcase?

Have you ever had a feeling of déjà vu and known it was something you can’t possibly have experienced in your own lifetime? I get this feeling often, a heartfelt pining for a time period I’ve never lived through and a place that I’ve never even visited. Many of these feelings are tied directly to Ireland in the early 20th century and onward. I’ve never been to Ireland and although I’m not about to disclose my age, suffice it to say that while I may not be a spring chicken anymore I certainly wasn’t alive that long ago. So where does this pull come from? I know that I have Irish ancestry so maybe it’s some sort of engrained memory in my genes; some attachment that’s been passed down from generation to generation, gently calling me back to the homeland. Maybe the memories of a past life are bubbling subtly to the surface of my consciousness.

Since I can’t time travel or teleport, the best I can do to ease this unnerving feeling of living out of place and out of time is to read as much as possible about this beautiful and bewitching Ireland. History books, news articles, and authors specializing in the place and era. I read and read and read some more, stoking this connection and hoping to quell this unexplained feeling of homesickness….a strange yet compelling homesickness for a place I’ve never even been. The reading does help, but it doesn’t answer the burning question lying underneath the feelings. Are the ghosts of my past whispering to me or am I just a nutcase?